


And you are?

by njckle



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Frostbite, Gen, Party at the Pole, Seasonal Spirits and Guardians, slight frostbite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 17:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njckle/pseuds/njckle
Summary: Every millennium, the world's spirits come together to celebrate.





	And you are?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hystericalcherries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hystericalcherries/gifts).



> Super late, but it's finally posted!

North’s workshop is in a different sort of calamity when Jack slips in through a window that evening. It’s as crazy as ever, with gizmos of all shapes and sizes zipping through the air, toy trucks and spinning tops and trains running amok on the ground, but Jack has visited enough to notice the smaller number of yetis testing and the more subdued yelling. Even North himself is nowhere to be seen.

Never one to turn away from a mystery, or any challenge for that matter, Jack forgoes his usual jokes and flies past his would-be victims in search of the Big Man. Simple really. All he had to do was follow the cookie crumbs and the booming voice that echoed in the hallway; past the kitchen, the testing room, and the dozens of guest rooms, until Jack comes to a vast room with a lengthy table that looked to seat a hundred guests.

The room is decorated with tinsel and evergreen, sparkling ornaments hanging from the rafters and every other available place like Christmas has come early. Jack sees North by the fireplace, arguing with a group of yetis putting the final touches on the fireplace mantle. They eye Jack suspiciously as he comes closer and he grins at them in return before turning his sights to the Russian man.

“Hey! Ho! What’s with the party plans?”

Like always, North greats him like it’s been years since they last spoke and not a week. “Jack! Right on time!” He gathers him close in a somewhat choking hold before directing him to the mantle, his hand swallowing Jack’s shoulder. “Big guests! Important! But you know this!” He turns back toward yeti handling a banner. “A little higher!”

“I do?” Jack asks. “You sure I was paying attention?”

“I am sure!” North claps his hands together in an epiphany. “Not important! I need you, Jack! Spirits come soon and the front door frozen shut!”

“Melting really isn’t really my forte.” At North’s expectant look, Jack grins, then ducks out from underneath his heavy hand. He hops over to the table, falling forward and letting the wind toss him back toward the bannisters. The ladder shakes and the yeti waves for him to shoo.

“I don’t like it! Lower!” North yells. “Unfreeze door, Jack!”

Jack gives a the man a shrug before he explores the rest of the Pole, wanting to see just how much space a crowd of spirits would needs to let loose. A peak down the hallways shows that they’re just as embellished, inviting him to race through them, to slide along the wood floors and tangle the strings of bells that line the upper moldings. He passes by a large ballroom, colored gold and red, it’s walls more intricate and high-end than anything Jack expected from North (the glass chandelier is slightly ridiculous) and he’s tempted to fool around in it, only his attention is caught on something else further down the hall.

Instead of bells or ornaments or paper art hanging off the walls, there are little pictures. He turns his head and finally recognizes it as a colorful portrait of North himself, his bear short and dark, but his expression the same, wild and timeless. Looking at the rest show Jack that the others are the same, but with different spirits. There’s one of Tooth and Sandy too, only they’re slightly different than Jack knows them, and he assumes its from when they were younger. There’s even one of him. He laughs at Bunny’s robe in another and flies to the next row to see the others, but each of them are faces he doesn’t recognize.

The wind carries his name to him, imitating North’s voice as a reminder that he’s supposed to unthaw the doors, but not to hurry. Jack adds his own touches here and there as he goes back the way he came, adorning the molds with frost patterns and leaves small ice figurines in places the elves can’t get to them. And when he’s bored with that, he pesters the yetis.

“Be careful,” he says skating between them, ducking under the platters, jumping up to take a peek at the extravagant dishes, some of them topped mile-high with layers of frosting and fruit. One yeti nearly stumbles with a pyramid of stacked steaming cups that smells like peppermint. “Ooh, that looks important.”

The Wind pushes an elf into a rolling cart, but it’s a prank that never comes to fruition because North catches the dish easily and tosses it onto the table without so much a care. “Jack! The door!”

“On it!” Jack nicks a pastry and salutes Phil on his way out. It takes less than a second to unfreeze the door and, despite what the wind wants, he clears the snow around it as well. Might as well do some good to make up for number of tricks he knows he’ll do as the party goes on.

The banner still isn’t up to North’s standards when he flies back inside. “When is everyone arriving, anyway?” he asks, curious.

Before North can reply, Jack’s tackled from behind. The wind whines when he’s lifted into the air through no means of its power, but calms when Jack hugs the feathered body pressed into him. He’s taken in by wide, amethyst eyes and not once do they look at his teeth. Progress.

“Jack!” Tooth says happily. “It’s so good to see you!”

He laughs, enamored at her enthusiasm. “Didn’t I visited you last week, Tooth?” They both jerk back when a small body darts between them. Baby Tooth flits around Jack’s face, chirping and tweeting so fast that Jack can’t catch all of it. “Hey, Baby Tooth.”

The little fairy zips forward to pat his cheek, her hands as soft and quick as kiss. Then she’s reminding Tooth of something or another, who lets go quickly, smoothing back her crown feathers. “I’m not,” she says, but then noticing Jack she quickly lets out an airy laugh. “Oh, did you? It felt longer than a week.”

Jack leans back against the wind and waves at the rest of her fairies. Only three of them faint this time. “How will you guys get on without me when winter comes around? Who’s going to remind you to have some fun once in a while?”

“I’ll just have to visit you then! In Burgess!” Tooth looks flustered and her fairies cluster around like spectators. “If that’s alright with you!”

“I like hanging out with you,” Jack says, offering a hand to Baby Tooth and laughing at the tickling sensations as she bypasses it and settles in the crook of his neck. “Stop by the pond anytime—you know where my oak is.”

“Perfect!” North yells and they look over to see the banner looking exactly as it did before. “Now the other!” The yeti grumbles and complains in a way that Jack’s sure isn’t child appropriate.

“So what’s this party for anyway?”

“It’s only the biggest party of the millennium!” Tooth’s wings beat louder in her excitement and she hovers over Jack, unable to remain still. “It’s when all the spirits of the world come together. We all have busy schedules, so it’s the one time we know we can see each other.”

“Everyone? Even the Groundhog?”

“Even him! Not to mention all the seasonal spirits—you know how they don’t usually mix.”

Now that’s something of a surprise for Jack. “There are other spirits like me?”

“Of course! You mean you’ve never met?” Tooth smiles like she thinks he’s joking, only for it to fade. Then, like a switch, her demeanor changes, and she puts her hands on her slim hips like he’s one of her workers who’s mixed up a incisor with a molar. “Have they been ignoring you all this time?”

Jack shrugs. He knows that most immortals shied away from him. “What are they like?”

“Well, there’s a lot them around, but the most believed in are Áine, Sprig, and Will—not to mention Mother Nature.”

“She is great spirit,” North exclaims, respect and passion oozing from his tone, so much that Jack wonders how what a spirit could’ve done to have Saint Nick think the world of them. “You will like her, Jack. I feel in my belly.”

“Who knows. Maybe I’ll meet them tonight.” The Wind swipes a gingerbread from an unsuspecting elf and starts a small fight. “When are they coming?”

“Well,” Tooth hums, “now, I guess.”

Her timing is perfect because at that moment, the floor below them caves in on itself and turns into a familiar hole. Bunny’s head pops up, ears flat, looking aggravated. “I’ve never been so happy to see Christmas.”

Jack is tempted to ask what he means when a red blur rockets out of the hole.

“Oh, the North Pole! I’ve always wanted to take a peek inside!” A girl, looking about a year or two older than Jamie, with wild, red hair and ears that stick out worse than North’s elves, takes in the room with a childlike wonder. After her zips out a dozen or so fairies that look right out of a story book. Jack sees one riding a squirrel while another peeks out from the underside of a robin. Another spirit, only slightly bigger than Tooth, this one with petals for hair and skin as dark as upturned dirt, comes up after her, shivering.

“It’s cold!” she complains in a voice that’s pitched too high for Jack’s taste. “Bunny!”

“Now, Sprig—”

The first spirit whoops. She’s quick on her feet, darting from one part of the room to another, picking up ornaments and goblets before abandoning them for the next interesting thing. It reminds him so much of himself that Jack has to laugh. “I remember my first time.”

She stops, finally noticing him, and all at once abandons her previous search. “Jack Frost!” she gasps, racing to him until they’re practically nose-to-nose. Tooth’s fairies shriek in annoyance. “In the flesh and bone!”

“Uh, and you are…?”

“Áine! Spirit of Summer at your service!” She shakes his hand longer than necessary, blind to the steam that rises from between their fingers. “I’ve been wantin’ to meet ‘ya ever since nineteen-fifty-four!”

Never before had he met someone who actually wanted to meet him, much less talk to him. It’s a nice feeling, Jack has to admit. He wonders she’s referring to, what he could’ve done to grab her interest, until he remembers that particular winter. “You mean the hail?”

“Heard about it from a newspaper! Nearly burned the Midwest to crisps from laughing so hard!” She stops shaking his hand, almost embarrassed. “Not that I did. Had it totally under control.”

Now that’s a near disaster that he remembers. He laughs. “That was you?”

Bunny groans. “Now there’s two of them.”

Jack ignores him, too fascinated by the the assortment of things tucked into Áine’s sash, most noticeably the carved horn at her hip. This close, it's like she's jumped out of one of Jamie's books, vines and cloth weaved together intricately while lightning bugs blink at her collar and hair, making her look even wilder. Life breathes with every one of her breaths and the winds circle each other like long lost brothers when she moves, and Jack thinks that’s what they are. Warm air curls at the nap of his neck, ruffling his hair.

“Nottie likes ya!” Áine says and, before Jack can ask who’s she’s talking about, spots Baby Tooth settled in the folds of his hoodie. “Oh, aren’t you the littlest thing I ever did see!” Then she sees Tooth and her other fairies. “Beautiful, you all are!”

Tooth’s wings flutters and she smiles big. Her fairies puff up in pride, but still keep close to Jack. “Thank you.”

Jack feels a strange sensation, like there’s a prickling in the back of his mind. He feels a certain kind of wamness wash over him, like he’s tucked up in bed and the moon is peaking through the window, a calm feeling that goes hand in hand with golden dreamsand. Used to Sandy’s silent entrances, Jack isn’t all too surprised when he sees Sandy waves up at him from below, as peaceful as ever.

“Sandy! About time! Seasons here!” North spots a gaggle of elves by the table. “Dastatachna! Away from borscht!”

Sandy huffs quietly, already miming his excuse, and having hung out with the Guardians as much as he has, Jack can easily decipher the message. The two other spirits on the other hand squint at the shapes flickering above Sandy’s head. “What’s he saying?” the flowery one asks.

“He was held up in Brazil by some all-nighters.” Jack turns to the flower spirit. “And who’re you?”

Some of Tooth’s fairies gather around the spirit, attracted to the white of her crest. “This is Sprig. She’s—”

“Let me guess,” Jack says. “Spring.”

“Jack Frost,” she sniffs in return and Jack gives her a short wave, already acquainted with that type of attitude. He might not know her, but the same can’t be said for her. “Looks like we’re all here.”

Áine shoves herself between them. “Hold on! Where’s Will? I was sure they came through with us.”

“I’m right here,” a mellow voice says from below.

“Crickey!” Bunny hops nearly ten feet in the air and that’s when Jack notices dark body standing in the shadows. “They’re poppin’ up like daisies.”

The Wind drops Jack to the ground. He recognises a pair of wide, yellow eyes and drooping ears within the dark shapes from his early winters, hiding in bushes and below rocks and overturned trunks. Jack thinks they remind him of a cat, but when the shadows shift he’s not so sure. “Who’re you? Have we met before.”

“No one really. Autumns not all the important, if you ask me.” The spirit pulls its hat lower and Jack starts to smell pumpkin spice and boysenberries.

North shoulders his way into the conversation with as much finesse as one of his yetis, still waving away the elves from the delectables, nearly stepping on one or two of them. “Halloween always a blast! Not as big as Christmas, but bigger than Easter.”

“Oi!” Bunny says the same time Áine rushes North, scattering the would-be thieves with a strong gust of wind.

She squeals. “Santa Clause! I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you!”

“About time, yes? I hear many things—great things. Summer is enjoyed by many.”

“Does that mean I’m on the good list?” Áine looks like she’s hit the jackpot. She floats higher with her excitement, like a balloon until she’s taller than North.

Bunny nudges Jack. “Being good is overrated, eh mate?”

“Record still yours, Jack, but Autumn is close second.” North addresses an elf holding a brass instrument that twists in odd directions. “Karl! Where is music? Guests are here!” He leaves them to deal with the last of the party arrangements, switching from Russian to a whimsical dialects that Jack’s never heard of, but the gist of his complaining and demands are obvious.

“I trick more than I treat,” Will says with a blank expression when they all look their way. “But at least the candy is good.”

Áine drops beside him, arms akimbo. “Can’t you be more exciting? We’re that North Pole! Isn’t this what you’ve always wished for?”

“I wish I was hibernating.” Will looks past them and, in a blink of an eye and a rush of leaves, they’re beside Sandy. “Hi, Sandy.”

The small, golden man smiles kindly, an array of symbols popping above his head, and simply offers the spirit a cup of hot chocolate. Will takes it and sits back on their haunches, cradling the cup. “Now this is a party.”

Áine makes an exaggerated face, like sitting still causes her physical pain. She chases after North. “Can we explore? Or how about you show us around the Pole, Mr. Clause?”

Bunny chokes on a laugh at the use of the pseudonym. But, before Áine can get her answer, they hear a loud honk, something that’s out of place this far up north. “Was that a goose?” Jack asks, only for the rest of the Guardians to perk up.

“Yes! Goose! She’s here!” North laughs like a kid who’s just gotten everything on his Christmas list. He’s quicker than Jack gives him credit for, already lumbering out of the room and to the front door before any of them realizes. “Jack! Show seasons around, yes? Other guest is here!”

Jack hums. “Must be someone important.” The wind must know who it is by the way it curls at his feet, giving him the impression it’s a friend, but doesn’t push him to explore. Trusting his companion, Jack focuses on the possibilities he’s been given. “I bet we can sneak past the yetis and see the sleigh.”

Áine crows like a rooster. “I was hoping you’d say that!”

“Tooth?” he starts, but she’s already shooting out orders left and right, her little fairies darting away across the globe, while others take their place, the cycle endless. Bunny and Sandy follow after North with the same eagerness and Jack’s almost tempted to follow, but the prospect of having free reign of the Pole stops him. Baby Tooth sticks with Jack as he rides the wind out of the room with Áine right on his heels.

Jack shows her the ballroom he’s only just discovered and they chase one another around, the winds whirling and tussling and nearly shaking the chandelier off its hook. When they tire of that Áine shows him the extent of her powers; Jack marvels at the way she bends the streams of light, laughs when she ingrains crude drawing in the wood high up where no one but them will see, leaving not a hint of ash. Will turns up only when Jack’s showing her the sleigh, scaring the reindeer into a frenzy until they’re kicked out by the yetis. Sprig slips on his ice and the moment they laugh at her misfortune, she sends a wave of earthly magic and Jack nearly gets snared by cardanias. The ending result is a collection of their season mashed into one mess.

“I think it looks better this way,” Áine says, bouncing on an especially large armchair when they've ended their games and the Pole looks like a mashup of seasons. A snap of her fingers and the fireplace is burning and crackling, pouring intense heat into the room.

“Looks desperate.” Will lessens the flames. They look behind Jack. “There’s a yeti behind you.”

Jack turns, craning his neck. “Oh, hey Phil.”

The yeti lets out a string of rumbling and gurgling, only Jack’s never bothered to learn yeti (doesn’t think he can), but he’s seen the expression many times to know just what’s being demanded of him. Phil points to the main room and Jack gets the distinction that they’re being put on time out.

“This doesn’t hurt my good list standing, does it?” Áine asks hopefully, only to be stared down. They’re escorted back, banished to the ceiling until further notice.

As the evening progresses into nights, the rest of the spirits arrive, slowly trickling in. Jack sees the Leprechaun and Cupid huddled together by the ham and a bowl of liquid that’s definitely not eggnog, and does nothing to stop the gaggle of elves get tangled in a floor-length beard of an old man he assumes is Father Time. In the corner, a goose the size of a car lays content to watch the going ons silently, but one look from it has Jack backing off. The woman beside it has a heart-shaped face and a yellow fur-coat, and a lasting impression that makes Jack feel that he’s met her before.

There’s spirits that Jack’s never seen, too old for him to know their names. They’re long limbed and squat, made of smoke that’s held together by a prestige armor, glowing eyes and wide eyes, and Jack takes them all with eager eyes. Some tower high above everyone else, growing as they pass through the door until their heads brush the bannisters; they merely wave off Áine’s antics when she blows at their crowns and ears and Jack when he freezes the tips of their noses.

He watches Bunny avoid the Groundhog like the plague while Tooth flits from one spirit to the next only to mix up her conversations. Sandy falls asleep on his feet and everyone steps around him like it’s a second habit. Wanting some fun, Jack creates a sleet of ice by the tarts and pastries. North mindlessly steps over it, but a cat-like spirit isn’t so fortunate, yowling and hissing as it skids across the room and into a thick evergreen.

Jack bites his knuckle, holding back his laughter else he get caught. “I need to invest in a camera.”

He’s not the only one wanting some fun. Áine follows his lead, leaping from one beam to the next like a professional acrobat, flipping onto a high-rising alcove. She flips to hang upside down, low enough to tap the top of one of Jack figurines for it to melt. It drips all over Sandy and he wakes with a silent snort. The little man shakes his finger up at him, a wry grin on his face and they fall back in case he puts them all to sleep (Jack wouldn’t put it past him).

Jack learns that Áine loved to ride horses and that Will never stays awake long enough to see winter in full. He and Sprig bicker about freezing her flowers and springs, about her turning his perfect snowdays into mud pits, and he has explain a total of three times that he lives in Burgess and that’s why he’s there so late in spring. With some encouragement from the Wind, he tells them about visiting Tooth’s palace and his old oak tree and the antics he’s gotten up to during snowball fights; they talk and laugh and Jack’s reminded of the day he’s spent watching Jamie hang out with his friends, and that alone lightens his heart and has him laughing at louder and opening himself further. How easy it is makes him sad about all the years alone, the wasted chances and moments, but now, he can ignore it in favor of what’s in front of him.

The moon is just beginning to shine through the windows when the last guest of the evening arrives. The woman slips in like an easy breeze and the world seems to sigh with every step. Jack stops his extended tale of a particularly exciting snow day when he catches a glimpse; he’s taken with the burls of black hair that surrounded her pale face, vines and leaves and golden petals so intricately weaved into her tresses that they look to be growing from her very roots. The green that is her clothes remind him of vines scalding up a wall, its patterns detailed with tree bark and buttons made out of dark gems.

“That’s Mother.” Will hums and the candle flames that are filed along the table grow smaller. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” Jack sighs with the wind. Looking at her, an urge begins to form, and the Wind tugs at his clothes and gently pushes at his back to get closer. Jack waves it off, hurrying along the shadows of the support beams to keep view of the woman as she makes her way through the crowd. It’s not just him, the rest of the seasonal spirits keep their distance. Even Áine is quiet.

North welcomes her with equal passion. He dwarfs her figure, strong and rough around the edges, but the way he holds her hands in greeting is entirely soft. “Mother Nature! So good you could join us!”

“North,” she says and her voice is like a babbling brook. “It’s been too long. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier, but I’ve only just woken up.”

“Bah! You are always on time! Come, come! Phil made your favorite!”

“You always did spoil me, North. With how things are, I think I’m need of a good meal.” A masked spirit hastily pulls out a chair and she sits with the grace of a queen. There's a wave of action as nearly everyone begins to surround the table.

Bunny huffs. “You’re telling me! Did you see how late spring came this year?”

Sprig makes small noise at Jack’s left, affronted.

They watch as she goes from one spirit to the next, navigating each new face with ease; Jack can see some of her expression from his height and how she gives each conversation the care and consideration it deserves. Everyone must know her and, while there’s no line to speak with her, all other conversations have nearly died down in preparation, only to start up once they’ve gotten their fill.

Tooth is the last, chittering away in her usual fashion that has Jack smiling, and Mother Nature must find it as charming as he does because she’s listening aptly with a enamored expression. Jack turns to Áine, only to find she’s gone, as are Sprig and Will, all three suddenly at ground level by the woman’s side.

“There you are, my sprites,” Mother Nature says, affection obvious with each word. Jack keeps to the shadows and wonders what it’d be like to be on the receiving end of her compassion. “I’ve missed you.”

Tooth’s face is suddenly less than a hairbreath from his, cutting off his view. He tries to wave her off, but she stubbornly remains in the way. “Jack! Now's your chance! Go and introduce yourself!”

A heavy thump and Bunny’s glaring at them from his wobbly perch. “You know normal blokes chat on the ground with the rest of us.”

“It’s Jack. He’s nervous about meeting Mother Nature.”

“I’m not nervous, I’m—”

Tooth lays a comforting hand on his shoulder like he’s a kid about to see a dentist. “She’s like any other spirit down there.”

Bunny huffs, holding on the rafter tightly as he slowly makes his way closer to their little group. “She’s better!”

“Bunny! Not helping!”

“Sittin’ up here like a chook won’t do him any good. You’re coddlin’ him!”

They bicker, but Jack’s only half listening, most of his focus on the conversation down below. “What did she mean she’s only just woke up?” he asks.

“She’s been asleep for a long time. Only wakes up once in a milenium to make sure each spirit is keeping up with their part. Making sure natures keeps balances takes a lot of energy.”

Jack realizes the significance of this night. “This party is for her.”

“She used to be awake more, but...” Tooth stalls and Jack understands. His number of believers are slowly growing, but he’s all to aware what it’d be like to lose them.

The Wind carries the woman’s conversation right into his ears. “Might I take a walk, North? It’s been so long since I’ve seen your workshop.”

“For you, anything! Shall I ask Phil for tour?”

She politely refuses. “You know I like to wander.”

Áine steps forward, proud. “And she’s got us!”

North’s laugh comes straight from his stomach, so loud and boisterous and full of life that it’s a easy to envision all the tales of his adventures. He waggles a finger at the summer spirit, only half serious. “No peeking at the list. I will know.”

Mother Nature smiles while Áine pouts. “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jack watches her glide across the room, her little trio taking all her attention. Once they’re gone, the room erupts into chatter, louder than before, and Jack thinks that she’s a sort of celebrity even among the oldest of immortals.

Tooth motions for Jack to follow, insistent, her face open and kind. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She’s right, he knows she is. He’s got an arsenal of comebacks, has thrived off his quick wit and pranks to let embarrassment to stop him now. “Thanks, Tooth.” Jack grins, giving her one quick peck on the cheek, before rushing off. Bunny’s sputtering gets lost in the wind.

The hallways pass by in a rush, the wind already knowing where to take him, and it carries him past the large wooden dumbwaiters and drops him in front of North’s personal workshop just as a ringing laugh rings out. Jack treads carefully, silently, and peaks at the shenanigans happening inside. Áine is hanging from the chandelier, ogling at the model airplanes, giggling gleefully, and even Sprig and Will take in the room with unpronounced wonder. Jack, used to the fantastic things North’s workshop had to offer, remains at the doorway.

Áine notices him first. “Mother, there’s someone here to meet you.”

That’s when the woman turns from North’s most recent project and when she looks at Jack, he feels like he did in Jamie’s bedroom, finally visible, finally believed in. Her irises are twin solar eclipses and Jack thinks he might go blind staring at her too long. Her expression is so inviting that he unconsciously walks up to her.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jack,” she says when he’s a few feet away. “I’ve heard many things passed along the wind about your pranks.”

“The good ones, I hope.” Sprig snorts, but Jack ignores her in favor of the ethereal woman before him.

“The best.” Mother Nature plucks a piece of North’s prototype out of Áine’s hands before it melts. “And a Guardians at that. You must be incredibly special.”

Sprig blows a raspberry this time.

Knowing that he should be treating her with respect, Jack can’t find it in him to do just that, preferring to remain casual. He leans on his staff, tilting his head like he could figure her out with a new angle. “You know, you’re not exactly what I was expecting.”

“And what were you expecting?”

“Older… more boring—like the Easter Kangaroo.”

She laughs and it gathers strength, like a stream becoming a raging river. “You’re not what I was expecting either.” She taps his nose. “I remember Father Frost, but that was so long ago that I almost forgot how fun winter could be.”

“There was someone before me?”

“Yes, but between you and me he was a stick in the mud. I prefer your snowdays. And you’ve turned Bo into quite the softy.” At his questioning look, she explains. “Boreas. I think you may know it as the North Wind.”

“I never knew it had a name.” He waves his hand, watching as a miniature storm beginning to form, snowflakes and puffs of frost twirling around his fingertips; a soft wind carelessly carries it from his hand to swirl around his body. “I never asked. I just kind of hitchhiked and never got off.”

Mother Nature tilts her head like she’s listening to someone. Jack thinks he hears it too, the whisper of the wind, but it’s no more words than a feeling. “Oh, Bo was more than willing. Liked you immediately.”

“I think that’s because I froze everything I saw the first couple of years.”

“Yes, it did like that.”

“Don’t encourage him!” Sweet grass falls from Sprig's skirts and she points an accusing a finger at Jack. “He’s been freezing my morning buds, Mother! You know how important they are!”

Jack rolls his eyes. “They thaw out. Eventually.”

The leaves that make up Sprig’s collar start to curl. “If they don’t bloom on time, Easter is ruined!!”

“Jack,” Mother says like he’d always been one of her favorites, “why don’t you let spring have a full run? At least once in awhile. Bunny could use the extra time.”

Will is sprawled out on North’s chair, idly eating a platter of cookies Jack knows the elves have gotten to. “Take some of autumn if you want.” They yawn. “I’ve been getting done earlier anyways.”

“There, you see. An easy solution. We have to work together to keep balance, you know.” Mother Nature makes her way over to Wil, who makes room on the chair for her, curling against her side like a cat. Against the rustic backdrop of North’s shelves, filled with fruitcake and knives and Russian dolls, they looks out of place, two entirely different myths clashing with another. Nonetheless, Jack doesn’t think he’s seen a more welcoming sight. “I have so much to catch up on. I hope you all have amazing stories for me.”

“Me first!” Áine says. “You’ll be so impressed with how I invented water skiing! There I was near the coast of California—”

Sprig cuts her off. “I think my new and improved weather patterns are more important than some sport.”

Before the two spirits can begin to bicker, Mother Nature shushes them. “Jack, why don’t you start.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” It’s an invitation more than a command, but Jack can’t argue when the fireplace alights with warmth and there, in St. Nick’s personal shop, a lush bed of grass blankets the cold stone, little daisies blooming red and blue and yellow. A gentle wind closes the door so that they’re cut off from the tinkering of toymakers and celebrating immortals from the higher levels. Áine and Sprig grudgingly sit and wait their turn, pacified when Will pulls out half a dozen stewed apples from his hat.

Jack slips to the floor in front of them, cross-legged with his staff across his knees. A faint brush of feathers against his skin and Baby Tooth is snuggling further deeper in his hood, peeping encouragingly when she’s settled in. “Where should I start?”

“Wherever you want,” Mother Nature says. “It’s your story, after all.”

It’s strange having an audience, people who expect something from him, and Jack worries that he’ll disappoint them somehow. He ponders over what to tell, where to begin, and is relieved when the wind offers its advice. _The beginning_ , it whispers in his ear, _start at the very beginning_.

That’s a good place as any. It’s a story well-remembered, with a bittersweet touch at the beginning and twists and turns that keep interest until the finale. And the best part? Jack’s sure of the happy ending.

“Darkness. That’s the first thing I remember... ”


End file.
